The moment I stepped in, everyone turned their heads, their eyes eating me alive with curiosity. I mean, I did spend a long time crafting my mask , I didn't know it would be this impressive. I walked straight between these differently built fighters, wondering if I really could endure this program. Suddenly, a tall, excessively muscular man stood before me, completely blocking my view. Staring into my soul, examining every detail of my body, he ordered, his eyes piercing through his tiger mask:
"To the left… Let's start our session."
I couldn't ever recall sweating this much while exercising. The training was insanely intense. Everyone with their faces covered in weirdly creative masks made me feel as if no one actually belonged here. Probably each fighter had his own goal, his own backstory, the one that led him to such a violent place where they could learn terribly aggressive fighting techniques , from using bare hands and punching as if their lives depended on it, to relying on weapons ranging from sticks and knives to hammers and guns. Yes, I couldn't believe it when I heard the shooting sounds coming from downstairs at first, but I guess this place is that dangerous.
"Ow…"
"Stay focused. There's no time for you to wander around if you seek progress," said my coach, his voice so calm it was almost confusing whether he was pissed or not.
He didn't move much… and that was the frightening part. His sheer mass made stillness feel dangerous, like a coiled beast choosing not to strike. His muscles were dense, controlled, refined by years of brutal training rather than vanity. His eyes were calm, observant… but when they locked onto someone, it felt as if their potential was being measured, judged, and weighed against merciless standards. His shoulders were impossibly broad, veins running like battle scars down arms thick enough to snap bones , and the thing that impressed me the most was how he never raised his voice. He didn't need to. One look was enough to make even veterans straighten their posture.
"Your time is up." A low sigh escaped him as he checked the watch desperately clinging to his thick wrist. "You have good stamina… you lack everything else."
Now that was harsh. Harsher than the beating I had just taken.
"Discipline is everything. Don't get too excited to fight after just one session . You still need training, and injuries won't help you improve for now."
"Yes, as long as I don't meet that gu—"
"No personal information, remember." I could see his eyes glaring at me. He kept scanning my mask as if it meant something to him, as if it revived something he couldn't remember … or shouldn't remember.
"First time?" asked a guy sitting on the bench next to me, lacing his shoes.
I turned around. Damn, that was startling. His mask resembled a supernatural creature, the kind you see in horror movies : not human, but not quite an animal either. Purple eyes shined from behind a transparent veil that dropped just to his nose's level.
"Yeah…" The silence felt too loud, so I broke it. "You?"
"No, I've been training here for a while now." He stood up, stretching his legs. "Tough?"
"What's tough?"
"The training."
"I'll get used to it, I guess."
"No you won't. The better you become, the harder it gets."
"How is that?"
"You'll definitely improve, but the coaches change each time you unlock a new level."
Wait… my coach isn't the strongest?There are actually people stronger than that ! He was literally muscles stacked on muscles.
"How come my coach is on the first level? Isn't he already strong enough?" I asked, gulping at the thought of that giant being the lowest-ranked coach.
"Strength is never about body weight. It's techniques, speed, and opportunity."
His words sounded wise coming from someone behind an uncanny valley mask, and honestly, it was a fair point. Zion isn't bigger than Nero, though the difference in strength between them is as clear as water.
Nero. He was still out there looking for me, waiting to seize the perfect opportunity to break a rib or two of mine. I didn't come all the way from the US to get beaten by some high schooler and never get the chance to uncover the truth about my missing brother. I had to stay low for a while if I wanted to keep my rank.
RING RING RING
The sharp sound cut through everything. I blinked, pulled back into the present, the noise dragging me out of my own head and back into the noise of the hallway filling up around me.
"Do you happen to like boys?"
"What?" I stared at Zion, who turned his head toward me as I walked right behind him on the way to the cafeteria.
"You've been clinging to me all day long. I'm open-minded , you can tell me your feelings. I'll obviously reject them because I'm into girls, but I do respect your preferences and I–"
"Wow, wow, wow — hey, I'm not," I said slowly, almost articulating each letter on its own. "It's just safer beside you, you know." I whispered, throwing my eyes in Nero's direction. "He's still around for revenge and I can't let him take his rank back. I can't fight him either … not yet."
"What do you mean, not yet? Are you going to, like, one day?"
"Yes, I'm planning to. I have to improve first."
"And how exactly are you planning to do that?"
"The problem is I can't quite tell you how."
"No… " Zion leaned in and whispered, his hand shielding his mouth, hiding both his words and the movement of his lips so no one could read what he was saying." Have you joined a gang?"
"Do those even exist?" I asked, and he went still for a moment, his gaze shifting as if weighing his answer before he burst out laughing.
"Of course they do… you really don't know anything, do you?"
"Well, that's the reason I came here in the first place. I need to know more… about everything." Yes, that's it. I had to focus on my goal , distractions would only slow me down, or worse, stop me from uncovering the truth. Whatever happened to my brother was darker than I could ever imagine.
The day was over. The wait was over. I was headed back to the arena, this time knowing what was waiting for me behind its door.
"Let's start."
Said my coach , or should I start calling him the Last Tiger, a title I had been told about recently. I kept turning the first part over in my mind: the last. The tiger was obviously tied to his mask , a mask that resembled a tiger frozen mid-snarl, but time had twisted it. Cracks splintered across its face like old wounds, and dried, dark stains clung to the edges of its jaw, impossible to tell whether they were paint or something worse. One side was slightly warped, as if melted or burned. It was still terrifying, intimidating, even . But there was something unmistakably broken in it, like strength that had once been used the wrong way and could never forget it. As for the last , as I said that was the part that unsettled me most, and I still didn't have an answer.
"May I ask you a question?" My hands were trembling as I pretended to fix my hand bandage, holding one end between my teeth and wrapping the other firmly around my fist.
He didn't say a word, as expected. His eyes rested on me for a few seconds before he gave me a slow nod to go ahead.
"When will I move to the next level? Like, how does the system work here?"
"You should prove yourself worthy of an upgrade."
I must have looked completely lost, because he passed a hand through his light brown hair that clung to his forehead , soaked and heavy with sweat , then elaborated:
"Each session, you're evaluated with scores across several criteria ; discipline, technique, stamina, agility, flexibility, and reflexes: in other words, opportunities. Once you reach a perfect score, you'll fight another first-level trainee. Winning guarantees your upgrade. Losing doesn't automatically disqualify you, but it will be held for discussion among the coaches."
"Once I finish this level, will I be capable of winning a fight against someone from my school?"
I swear I nearly stopped breathing. The coach stared at me, not loudly, not dramatically, but in a way that reached through my chest and rearranged something. I knew no personal information was allowed, but wasn't it already obvious that I was a high schooler? I thought as long as I didn't name my school it would be fine … apparently not. For a moment I saw my life flashing before my eyes. Would I be punished? Expelled from the program?
"You said school?"
"I'm sorry, coach. I didn't mean to disclose any personal information, it just slipped out. I didn't do it on purpose."
"You're trying to beat someone from your school?"
Now why is he repeating himself ? What's wrong with being at school? Am I not allowed here as a highschooler ? Is he giving me a chance to deny it ? because I definitely will. I'll deny everything. I don't even go to school . I mean this man could snap me in half with one hand and he still chose to use his words. Somehow that was scarier.
"Uh… yes."
I tried to read his eyes. Surprisingly, they had grown calmer, but confused, as if he was trying to piece something together.
"Why is that?" he asked, his voice dropping lower with each word.
"Beating this person?" I paused. A sudden realization hit me , I didn't entirely know why I was trying to beat Nero. Why can't I just stay a nobody at school and search for something that might lead me to answers? Do I really need to climb to the top ranks to find clues?Would knowing more about the school's ranking system truly bring me closer to the truth about my brother?
"I have to. It's for my brother. I need to find him."
His eyes widened. I wouldn't say he seemed interested, it was closer to frustration, or being lost, as if my words had stirred something he hadn't expected.
"Your brother…"
Why was he so invested? Anxiety radiated off his entire body. I could feel it from across the room.
"Let's wrap today's session. You've trained enough, and I have somewhere to be."
I got up from the floor and watched as he left the room in a hurry, as though something urgent had just surfaced.
That night, I couldn't stop thinking about his reaction, turning it over, pulling it apart. What if he knew something about my brother? What if he knows who I am, who my brother is, and simply couldn't place me under this mask? It felt like the only explanation that made sense. My intuition told me he knew something … or maybe I was just unraveling. Everything happening back to back might have pushed me into overanalyzing the smallest details. But if he did know something… what could it possibly be?